The Shirt
by Xehra
Summary: The loss of *that* shirt causes some sleepless nights


Title: The Shirt  
  
Author: Xehra xehra1@hotmail.com  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Disclaimer: Paramount owns it all. I make no coin.  
  
Summary: The loss of *that* shirt causes sleepless nights  
  
Category: Mush, a little angst  
  
Setting: Post 'Shockwave II'. Refers to the incident with (or should that be  
  
'without'?) Hoshi's shirt.  
  
Notes: My very first ENT fic. Be gentle.  
  
***  
  
Sometimes in the night, when he couldn't sleep, a particular memory sprang unbidden to Malcolm's mind. One moment he would be staring blankly into the darkness; the next he could see her as she had been at that moment when the door of his quarters opened.  
  
He would shut his eyes, trying to dismiss the image at first, painfully aware of the impropriety of the thoughts that would inevitably follow. But she refused to go away, simply standing there, head to one side, dark eyes narrowed.  
  
At the time he had been so completely flabbergasted that he couldn't do much beyond blinking once, closing his dropped jaw and unthinkingly obeying her sharp command to fetch her a shirt.  
  
It was only later that he realised his brain had taken in every detail of her bare torso, the way her arms and hands covered her chest in an effort at modesty. But it was her face that bewitched him: the resigned and faintly annoyed expression with glimmers of amusement in her eyes.  
  
Malcolm rolled over in his bunk, suppressing a groan. He had to be on duty in four hours, he needed sleep...  
  
But Hoshi continued to stand there in his doorway, shirtless. The memory was so vivid he couldn't banish it, and he knew the course his traitorous male mind would take - playing out the scene that followed in a hundred different ways.  
  
As had happened on many nights before, the Tactical Officer sighed and capitulated to the fantasy. In these waking-dreams, he never fetched Hoshi a shirt, and the repartee that followed was peppered with witticisms and innuendo.  
  
Of course dream Hoshi always ended up in his bed, but conveniently in his fantasy the ship wasn't overrun by Suliban, nor the Captain trapped in the future. There was all the time in the world to discover the smoothness of her skin...  
  
It was ridiculous, really, the way she had wormed her way into his mind. The possibility of any of it happening in reality was remote, and he himself would never allow such an encounter to happen: the disparity in their ranks precluded it, let alone Starfleet regulations about fraternisation...  
  
Besides, she probably never gave the incident a second thought beyond an occasional blush when she passed him in an empty corridor. He'd never told anyone of the condition in which she had arrived at his quarters, and so she'd never had to endure the friendly jibes that would have inevitably been aimed at her by her fellow crew.   
  
Malcolm rolled over again, staring at the wall, one arm tucked under his head. If she thought of anyone in *that* way it was most probably not him, anyway. She probably harboured secret desires for Commander Tucker, or the Captain. They both seemed to have that laid-back, easygoing American charm that women liked. And there was no question that they were both handsomer than he was - he had overheard two female ensigns in the cafeteria once ranking Enterprise's officers on looks. He had not ranked very highly.  
  
How the bloody hell had she managed to lose her shirt anyway? He'd never asked her. It had seemed unimportant at the time and later just too indecent to bring it up again. He had briefly entertained the idea of her doing it on purpose, some kind of cheeky stunt to grab his attention... but no. Hoshi wasn't like that.  
  
Was she?  
  
Determinedly he closed his eyes, forcing the mental image of her to fade by concentrating on his work roster, weapons specs, planned repairs... anything to do with something else. It only worked partially, though, because when he did sleep, his dreams were of her dark, amused eyes.  
  
***  
  
A deck away, Hoshi thumped her pillow and flopped back onto her side. She couldn't sleep. A memory kept her awake - one that had caused more than a few sleepless nights prior to this one. She had always known he was very proper, but the complete and utter shock on Malcolm's face the door had slid back had surprised her. Thank goodness she'd rehearsed what she was going to say.   
  
She smiled to herself in the dark. He was so cute when he was flustered.  
  
END 


End file.
